One Night with the Boss. Teresa Southwick

just asked where you met him. How is that personal?”

      “It’s prying.”

      “I’m curious. So take me out back and flog me.”

      “Tempting,” she said. “But it’s raining and I don’t want to get my hair wet.”

      “Oh? Do you have a hot webcam date?” She gave him a look and he held up his hands. “The least you can do is tell me his name.”

      “Again—prying.”

      “Are you ashamed of him? Ichabod? Aristotle? Sven?” He tapped his lip thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s a girl name. Lindsay? Lynne? Carroll?”

      She almost laughed, almost succumbed to the charm. Instead, she decided to run for cover. She turned away and headed for the door. “You’re incorrigible and listening to this isn’t in my job description.”

      “Why can’t he move here to Blackwater Lake?”

      Because he doesn’t exist, she thought. “It’s just easier if I go there.” That was sort of true.

      “Easier on who?”

      “Me.”

      “So where are you moving?”

      “Again—prying. Look, I did what I had to do. You’ve got your two weeks’ notice. Now I’m going back to work. There are a lot of loose ends to tie up.”

      Behind her he said, “Most administrative assistants would be eager to give their boss all the juicy, gossipy details of a love affair.”

      “I’m not most assistants.”

      “Tell me about it.” He sounded like a petulant little boy, pouting about not getting his way.

      That should have reinforced her decision, but as always, she found the behavior oddly endearing.

      She stood in the doorway between their offices. “So, I’ll advertise my position and hopefully you can promote from within the company. I’ll also contact an employment agency and recruiters we’ve used in the past. I’ll work over the weekend and on Monday there will be a slate of candidates for you to interview.”

      “Whatever.”

      Olivia closed the door, then walked over to her desk and sat behind it. She let out a long breath and realized the last few minutes in Brady’s office were just a preview of what she could expect from him for the next two weeks. Giving him her resignation was a walk in the park compared to the prospect of actually working with him every day until she left.

      He wasn’t going to make this easy on her.

      * * *

      Three days after Olivia had given her notice, Brady leaned back in his desk chair and squeezed the orange ball. It was Monday and she’d kept her word about lining up people for her job. He’d just completed the second of two interviews she’d scheduled for today and she was seeing the applicant out.

      “Olivia must be really anxious to get out of here,” he said to himself, crushing the round foam rubber in his palm.

      Who was this guy she’d met?

      He’d never thought about her dating, let alone getting serious. And he wasn’t sure what bothered him more—losing the world’s best assistant, or the fact that she was leaving because she’d fallen in love. He hated change—and the thought of her with a guy made him want to rip what’s-his-name’s head off.

      The situation basically sucked.

      He swiveled in his chair and looked out the big arched window. No rain today. It was beautiful outside, with the sun turning the surface of Blackwater Lake to sparkling diamonds. The other window had a view of the mountains and he knew that from her desk just a few feet away Olivia could look at the same beautiful surroundings.

      Was there mind-blowing scenery where what’s-his-name lived?

      “So, what do you think about the interviews?”

      Brady knew Olivia’s voice, but he’d realized she was in his office before she’d said a word. The scent of her filled the room and always made him think of flowers. A garden. Serenity.

      But not anymore. Now she was going to turn his life upside down to move somewhere he didn’t know with a guy she wouldn’t name.

      He swiveled his chair around and looked at her. She was wearing a very businesslike, conservative navy pantsuit and matching pumps. Today her strawberry-blond hair was pulled away from her face in a ponytail, emphasizing her high cheekbones. Her big blue eyes filled with eager anticipation when she sat in one of the club chairs on the other side of his desk.

      She wasn’t tall and willowy or classically beautiful, but her smile always brightened the room on a cloudy day. And there was something about her voice, a huskiness that wasn’t quite a lisp but tapped into his devilish streak and made him bait her into saying S-words.

      She was staring at the rubber ball in his fist. “You’ve clearly been giving the interviews some thought.”

      “Sort of. In a manner of speaking. But only because you forced me into this.”

      She rolled her eyes, then looked at the yellow legal pad in her lap that she used for notes. “Okay, then. Let’s start with candidate number one. Shannen Dow.”

      The corners of his mouth curved up. “I like her name.”

      “That’s a good start. The recruiter says she’s one of their strongest applicants.”

      “Of course they would. Commission is their revenue stream.”

      Olivia ignored that. “I thought she was very bright, with a solid background in computers and business. That’s really important so she can hit the ground running. The sooner you hire someone, the more training I can do before my last day.”

      The last day part hit a nerve. “She was okay. But it has to be said—not a fashion plate.”

      Her blue eyes narrowed on him. “I didn’t list accessorizing as a qualification you were looking for. Since when do you care about that?”

      “Since always. She’ll have to meet clients and there will be meetings.”

      “Not often. When I interviewed, you told me that since your corporate office is in your home, I could wear jeans to work.”

      Because jeans look good on you, he thought. But Shannen Dow was skinny and her voice wasn’t the least bit gravelly or interesting.

      “But you never did go casual and that’s set a very high bar for your replacement.”

      “So take her to the mall.”

      Brady ignored the sarcasm. “Didn’t you find the tone of her voice to be like fingernails on a chalkboard?”

      Olivia’s expression was wry. “Not until you asked her to make a pot of coffee.”

      “Really? I thought the pitch was on the shrill side. Too much of that would give me a headache.”

      “No one wants to work for a male sexist pig,” she pointed out.

      “She needed to know I’m missing the sensitivity chip,” he defended.

      “Making coffee isn’t a skills requirement for this position.”

      “Says who? It’s important to me and I’m the one who signs the paycheck.”

      “Okay then. Moving on.” She made a note on the legal pad. “Let’s talk about candidate number two.”

      “What’s her name again?” he asked innocently.

      “Shelly Shows.” She met his gaze. “Did you approve of her outfit?”

      “It was lovely.” He added, “But I wasn’t wowed by her, even in plaid.”

      “Her